Not a Clone
by Benjamin .M. White
Summary: Neg is a clone who isn't normal. He hates fighting and is a science geek, which gets him teased. But when the Blue Shadow Virus comes, his skills are more valuable than any fighting prowess.
1. Chapter 1

**Not A Clone**

_A Clone Wars short story by Benjamin M. White._

**Chapter 1: The Outcast**

A generic clone in generic armor was using a generic pair of electrobinoculars in a generic clone outpost on a generic moon. Generic. Neg hated that word.

Clone 237546900 was stuck on Leegeeo. It was a rock. Just that. A big, stinkin' rock. It really did stink. It had pockets of frozen methane everywhere. Neg once had a nightmare the air purifiers broke in the outpost. After it, he had woken up in a cold sweat. When telling another clone, he was just laughed at.

After scanning the rocky surface and seeing no droids, he walked back through the glossy white building, built in the interior style of Tipoka City. Neg made his way to the dining hall; it was almost time for breakfast.

When he walked in, he grabbed a bowl of cereal and coffee. He sat down with a couple of his squad members, and also his friends. "Dask, do you have the paper?" Dask was his best friend, and was here at the outpost at its creation. Neg had no idea how he got his nickname; he had arrived 6 months after him.

"Yeah. Grand Army edition, of course." Dask passed him the closest thing to a holopaper, the thing that most everyone read daily for news at Coruscant. It was the Grand Army of the Republic newsletter, issued to Clones for basic news.

Neg idly stirred his cereal as he read the paper. "Blue Shadow Virus: Naboo Nearly Made a Graveyard. What is this?"

"Read on." Neg scanned through the news story about: "A Seperatist-engineered virus that nearly brought death to all of Naboo, if not for the efforts of Representative Binks, Senator Amidala, Ashoka Tano, and"

"Of course. Anakin Skywalker, The Hero with no Fear, and Obi-Wan Kenobi, The Negotiator. Have they ever lost?"

"Nope," said Sevens, another squad member, eating some oatmeal. Sevens's number happened to be 77777. "Not that I know of."

"Well, I actually heard that Skywalker nearly died when Aayla Secura's fleet was attacked!" Mike shouted across the table, named for his loud voice; as in _mic_rophone.

They talked for a few minutes like friends do, sharing what they had been doing. "Neg, I heard _another_ explosion in your room last night. That's the third this week. What the heck have you been making?" asked Sevens. Neg was a bit of a science geek, and was notorious for making noises in the middle of the night.

"I made... this!" He pulled out a tube of some powder from where clones normally keep ammunition. "It's a special designed food flavoring. Try it." He passed it to Dask, who mixed some of the powder with the syrup on his waffle. Cautiously, Dask took a bite.

"This is good! I tastes like... I don't know. But this was worth all those explosions this week."

"NERD!" An obnoxious clone called over. Neg didn't pay any attention. He got that a lot.

Then, they heard the sound of arguing and yelling. Neg got that look in his eye. "Neg... just lay off it. Don't..." Dask protested, but it was futile. Neg walked over to the two arguing clones. Dask groaned.

"Guys, what's going on?" Neg asked, sounding exasperated.

"He stole the last Pop Tart when I was here first!"

"No, he did!"

"He did!"

"He did!"

"He did!"

"Guys! Just split it, or one can take the last tomorrow. Or do something like Rock Holopaper Vibroblade, or flip a credit - any number of things!"

This, as usual, caused laughter. That's how Neg got his nickname - _neg_otiator. He was always mocked for his nonviolent demeanor, unlike most Clones bred to be soldiers, but it never stung him. He just went on with his life and attitude.

Dask did nothing. He had always respected Neg for who he was, but still didn't want him to fight the flow. He often tried to tell Neg to stay out of it, but it never worked. Most teasers said that he got the wrong fluids when he was an embryo back at Kamino. Sometimes, Dask wondered if that was true.

After finishing his waffle Dask followed the oddball back to his quarters, where they usually did hang around for a few minutes chatting. When entering the bedroom, the only room, Neg sighed. He didn't do this much.

"I wish I wasn't a Clone."

"Well..." Dask tried to pull out one of Neg's own negotiation or debate tactics. He just went with "Why not?"

"I'm not a genuine person. I'm supposed to be a soldier, grow, train, fight, and then die, no questions asked. I don't want to be a mass-produced person! I hate the concept of war! Even if I hear somebody needs surgery, I start to get dizzy. I have hemophobia. How could I deal with a battlefield? I don't want to be a soldier, I want to be... a..."

Neg looked around his room for inspiration. Various science and engineering books were in a neatly organized bookshelf. A small lab table lay next to it, brimming with chemistry supplies. A large datapad mounted on the wall was next in line, almost always opened to a state-of-the-art word processor showing some novel he was righting. Aside from being a diplomat and scientist, he was an author.

"A diplomat? Author? Chemist? Starship builder? Anything _but_ a soldier or a surgeon." Dask stopped and thought about it all, trying to understand Neg's state of being.  
"I know I've completed basic training, and not to bad of a shot, but... there are so many more bad things about being a Clone! I have the same genes as Jango Fett, the galaxy's most notorious bounty hunter. I'm a piece of mass-produced machinery. My only purpose is to fight ruthlessly and die."

***

From that moment on, Neg seemed different. He spent more time in his bedroom lab, or writing his novels. That day was must of been the straw that broke the bantha's back. From then on, he never stepped in to arguing Clones, or asking random people for his opinion on his latest drafts, but he still came out with a science fact, but this was rarer. Dask regretted trying to pull him away from who he was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The Threat**

"Hey Neg, can I come in?" Dask's voice was muffled through the door. It slid open. Neg was sitting on a chair reading his novel drafts from a slim datapad, about the size of a sheet of holopaper. His finger lifted from the a button that read _open door_ as soon as his friend walked in, closing the door behind him.

"Neg... I'm sorry about the last week. Why are you suddenly so quiet?"

Neg looked very depressed. "I'll never be able to leave being a clone as long as I live. Clones can't quit. There's no way out." He sighed, as he often did these days.

Dask tried to cheer him up. This was so unlike him; he would probably pop back to his normal self in a few days. "Well... are you sure you can't?" Neg tapped something on the datapad, and a page from the clone handbook came up. He passed it to his friend. It read _Under no circumstances may a Clone leave the Grand Army of the Republic._

The only answer that Dask could come up with was a lame, "Oh. Uhh... sorry about that." Dask wasn't really that blunt, but he was rather dumbfounded by Neg's sudden break. He had always been able to take any negative comment with little reaction, but... Neg snapping like this was so unusual. And it didn't look like he would go back to normal anytime soon.

Dask searched his mind again for a better way to cheer up Neg. "Ummm...." Dask droned on for a few seconds, not realizing he was speaking out loud. He caught himself when Neg gave him a weird look.

"What scares you about combat? What _specific_ thing scares you? Droids don't bleed, and we don't when we're hit."

"It's not the gore. Lost lives. What would I do if I lost Mike... Sevens... you..." Neg shuddered; this seemed more like a question to himself rather than Dask. The silence hung for several moments as Neg brooded over that thought. The other clone couldn't help but inwardly shudder at the darkness in his friends voice.

"But... we're clones. We are made to fight and die for the Republic."

"Exactly. We are mindless soldiers, just to go out and die. Do you really want to only be a soldier for the rest of your life? I can never escape this..." Dask realized Neg was stuck in a spiral of depression, with almost no hope of escaping. Dask personally didn't mind being a soldier. Neg was the only one who didn't. But, Dask tried the best he could seeing the problem Neg's way.

Still, Dask tried on. "You might never see combat. Many clones on backwater moons like us don't."

Neg had obviously already thought of that, due to his answer's speed. "Then I'll be stuck here on Leegeeo for the rest of my life, never to be a real person. Dask, stop trying. There's no way out. Only if I die..." Dask left the room in thought, witnessing the sheer depth of Neg's situation.

_Only if I die...I'm worried about Neg. What if..._ Dask cut his thoughts there, not wanting to think further.

***

It was lunch, and best of all - Nerf Day, as most clones called it. Once per three months, the clones on Leegeeo got gourmet nerf delivered. It was most clone's favorite food. The chefs went all out, cooking it every way possible. You wouldn't believe all the stuff they could do to a raw hunk of nerf.

This time, Neg joined them for a meal. At breakfast, he couldn't be found. When Dask talked to him after breakfast, Neg said he had already gotten some food and felt like doing stuff in his room. He didn't do that before two weeks ago (it had been one week since Dask and Neg had their serious talk.). But it was Nerf Day, and nobody wanted to miss this, not even an oddball like Neg.

Recently, Neg was starting to get back to being regular Neg. But not fully. He still seemed... off, so to speak. Still secluded from everybody else, and often seemed to have a sad look in his eyes. Several times Dask caught him staring out a window, probably wondering what he could become, if only not a clone.

Currently, Mike and Neg were in a debate about, of all things, Nerf Jerky. It was one thing Neg didn't have on his plate that everybody did. "I know, it is good, but not _that_ good."

"Yes it is! It's MANLY food!" Mike retorted, too loud as always.

"Do you know how much fat is in that thing? Or preservatives?"

Sevens butted in. "Um, Neg, there aren't any preservatives in these. The cooks made them only a few hours ago.

"So, it still has more fat than what should be able to fit in that stick!"

"So what?! It's MANLY!"

Neg gave Mike a _you are being totally ridiculous _look, and opened his mouth to try to reason with him again. But before he said anything, sirens blared. "All clones, retreat to the Inner Shelter! Put on your helmets and activate gas filters! This is an emergency!"

All the clones immediately bent over to grab their helmets, sitting somewhere near them. Neg was desperately looking for something. "Neg... don't tell me you forgot-" started Sevens, but it was cut short. Neg ran, faster than he ever had before, for his personal quarters.

"Get to the Inner Shelter! I'll go after Neg!" Dask latched on his helmet, activated the gas filter, and ran for Neg.

The white hallways were overflowing with pure chaos as the garrison's two hundred clones scrambled around madly to retreat to the inner shelter. Heavy breathing echoed across the smooth hallways, getting steadily louder with the clicks of helmet air filters being flipped. In the white mess, Neg looked no different than any other clone.

_No, no, no... wait! This one doesn't have a helmet on! No, that's not him..._ It was strange how Neg could stand out so much when they were there at the lunch table, but among armored soldiers, he was no different. Yet he was. Dask pushed the odd thought from his mind and continued his search, making his way like a Nomlas fish going upstream.

Finally, he found Neg's room. He wasn't there. The clone helmet with 237546900 printed on it lay on the bed. But several gadgets in a drawer lay scattered about; Neg must of forgot to even close the drawer.

_Why didn't you take your helmet? _Dask thought. Normally, clones didn't panic. Through the iron strong wall of mental training, Dask, felt panic seeping in like a poison. The captain quickly grabbed the helmet under his shoulder for Neg. He ran off where his feet turned, not thinking of any specific direction. Every hallway, he yelled Neg's name. There was never an answer.

Finally, he found a clone without a helmet working inside the main control room. He had met no other clones in the hallways. "NEG! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"

Who was Neg held a pack of various technical supplies. The wall was ripped open, cords sticking out at odd angles. "DASK! GET BACK TO THE SHELTER! THERE'S A TOXIC GAS COMING! I THINK IT'S THE BLUE SHADOW VIRUS!"

Dask stopped for a moment. _The Blue Shadow nearly killed all of Naboo. If it's here, how can we possibly fight that with a blaster? _He ran over and placed a firm hand on his comrade's shoulder. "Neg - come with me. You will surely die if you try this."

Neg kept on working, not sparing any glances. "And everyone will surely die if I don't do this. All our communications are down. We could have a spy in our midst, or a huge Separatist flagship. Death is coming at us like the wind. I might be able to stop it. I can to overthrow the jam, and I can make a special chemical that could help seal the doors and purify air flowing in from the virus. As well-"

Dask silenced Neg with a hand on his shoulder. "Stop. You can't do all this on your own. The Inner Shelter can block out most everything."

"Not the Blue Shadow. When I heard about it in the newsletter, something chilled me. I knew that it would somehow be dangerous to us. I've spent the past few weeks examining everything about it. And no doors can stop it. Give it a sliver of space, and death flies in. Call me crazy, but I think the Force told me. And I think that's why I'm so different. I have the Force in me." The _Force_? How could it be? Bit

" Please Dask... go. My greatest fear as a soldier is for you to die. Please, don't. Go." Neg's arms dropped to his sides. Maybe there was some bit of clone spirit in his eyes. To keep fighting until the death. To fight for his fellow clone.

Dask thought for a moment. "I'll work with you. Just tell me what to do, and I'll carry it out. If I would trust anyone here right now in this situation, it would be you. You're as good as any Separatist scientist. If _we _die, _we _will die together as fellow soldiers and clones."

Neg looked like he had the day he broke down, totally without spirit. But not quite. There was still some fight in him... and maybe a flicker of the Force. "If you do understand that you will die today, then... I wouldn't have anyone else at my side."

***

Sevens glanced through the sea of clones. All two hundred were compacted into a four hundred square-foot room. Mike was complaining of the stifling heat - very loudly. Neg and Dask still couldn't be seen. Through it all, he made his way to the Captain of Leegeeo Outpost.

"Captain Ulana! Sergeant Dask or Private Neg set off in search of Private Neg's helmet some time ago! I can't find them!" he shouted over the clamor. On Leegeeo, they had taken a habit to use nicknames formally.

Ulana's eyes darted from screen to screen, checking all the readings. "I'm sorry, but I am picking up a toxic gas coming this way. We have no time to search for them." He feverishly clicked out another command on the computer screen.

He paced nervously back and forth. This was bad... very, very bad. And a toxic gas? He would have to find a way to get Neg and Dask inside.

***


End file.
